Hands-on in La-la land

There's a sea of nudity around me -- saggy breasts, stretch marks, cellulite and all, mostly belonging to Korean grannies -- but I fit right in because I'm buck naked, too.

This is definitely a few metres out of my comfort zone, so it takes me a second to focus on the diminutive Korean mama padding around in her flip flops. "No. 33, number 33," she yells out. But it's not the hollering that sets her apart. She's actually wearing a "uniform," if a black bra and panties qualifies, and she's looking for me.

I get up from my comfortable seat in the Warm Mineral Pool and follow her to a rather basic vinyl-covered (which closely resembles fake Louis Vuitton) massage table set up in a half-wall cubbyhole at the side of the room.

There's no privacy, no artful towel draping, no mood lighting, and definitely no spa music (unless the stream of chatter from the grannies counts).

Lee, my attendant for the next 90 minutes, doesn't bother with any pleasantries. She points to the massage table and curtly says, "Lie down."

Welcome to the world of traditional Korean public bathing, right in the heart of Los Angeles.

L.A. has the largest Korean population in the world outside of Korea so it's no surprise the centuries-old practice of communal bathing has become so popular here. Many consider it the secret to looking young, and others see it as a social outing.

With more than 20 years in business, Olympic Spa claims to be the first spa in Koreatown.

Conveniently located between Beverly Hills and downtown L.A., it's not much to look at from the outside -- a rather nondescript red brick facade with a "Women Spa" sign out front that's covered in graffiti.

Inside, the no-frills decor is quite a contrast to the serious soaking and steaming and scrubbing taking place. Imagine the YWCA meets the local community centre, done in a Pepto-Bismol pink tile, except here, everyone's naked.

Sunny Baek, one of the front-desk clerks, says more and more "foreigners" are coming to the spa, including plenty of tourists like me. "When they come here first time, they're ashamed because they're naked. Then they realize it's Okay," explains Baek.

One of the biggest selling features is the price. Simply put, this place is an amazing bargain -- often an impossible find in a city where $300 designer T-shirts are the norm. Spa services at Olympic top out at $130 US, and that gets you a 1 hour and 45 minute package which includes a scrub, massage and facial. Admission to the pools, saunas (there are three of them) and therapy rooms for a "Simple Soak" is a mere $15 US.

There has been a whole-hearted attempt to welcome non-Koreans to Olympic, though some things have been lost in translation. My favourite sign is the one that reads, "Do not use body oil or eggs in sauna." That must be a treatment I haven't heard about.

I've opted for the 85-minute "Pure Bliss," one of Olympic's most popular packages, instead. It starts off with their signature service, the Akasuri Scrub -- a traditional Korean technique for exfoliation. Under Lee's relentless onslaught with her sandpaper-like mitts, I'm sure I have no skin left. Just before my back ends up completely raw, she slaps me on the butt and commands, "Turn over." I flip over and she continues her torture. No nooks and crannies are spared from Lee's blitzkrieg, including behind my ears and right down to my, ahem, more delicate parts.